“Let’s go for a walk,” she said.
They strolled along a shady path that was a world away from the sound of gunfire and the smell of cordite in the shooting range.
Caitlin Lyons was an attractive woman in her thirties, and if she hadn’t been wearing black, short-sleeved coveralls with a sidearm on her belt she could have passed for a member of Celtic Women, the musical ensemble. She had a peaches-and-cream complexion, and the brows over her remarkable blue-green eyes were high and arched. Her dark blond hair was tucked under a black baseball cap with FBI on the front.
“Not bad shooting, Joe. Ever think of joining the FBI?”
“As soon as they have a navy,” Zavala said.
Caitlin laughed. “You were very brave to come up to me when I had a gun in my hand.”
“Should I have been worried?”
“You know what they say about a woman scorned . . .”
Zavala winced. His dark good looks and unassuming manner made him popular with many women around Washington. He had gone out with Caitlin, but their budding romance was interrupted by a mission for the Special Assignments Team. He had not gotten back to her until now.
“Scorned is an ugly word, Cate. I was planning to get in touch with you after my last job.”
“How about abandoned, then? Jilted? Left in the lurch. Forsaken.” She saw the distress on his face. “Don’t worry, Joe,” she said with a smile, “I’m not angry at you for leaving me to run off on another NUMA mission. I’m a cop, I might have done the same. And I wasn’t looking for anything permanent anyhow. The FBI is as demanding as NUMA. Besides, if I need you, all I have to do is turn on the TV and I’ll see those Latin good looks. I watched the bathysphere dive. Very exciting.”
“The most exciting part was what you didn’t see.”
Caitlin gave him a quizzical look, and he pointed to a park bench alongside the walkway. They sat down, and Zavala told her about the attack on the bathysphere, Austin’s close call, and the connection to the Pyramid Trading Company. When he was done talking, she took his hand and squeezed it.
“You’re a cad and a bounder, Joe, but I would have been devastated if anything had happened to you.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “Now, how can I be of help in solving an ocean crime? As you pointed out, I’m a landlubber.”
“You’re also an expert on Asian crime, which I’m not.” Zavala described the triangular mark Austin had discovered on the AUV’s blade and the connection between the underwater robot that attacked the bathysphere and the fishing company owned by Pyramid Trading.
She let out a low whistle.
“Pyramid. The baddest of the bad. You couldn’t have chosen a worse bunch to tangle with, if that’s the case. You and Kurt are damned lucky to be alive.”
“What do you know about Pyramid?”
“Let me give you some perspective,” Caitlin said. “My job is to keep Asian crime as far from U.S. shores as possible and to solve crimes when they do occur. It’s a losing battle. We’ve had Asian criminal enterprises in this country since the early 1900s, starting with the Chinese tongs.”
“Didn’t the tongs originate the term hatchet man?” Zavala asked.
“The hatchet men were the Chinese thugs who fought one another during the tong wars. The tongs started as social clubs but then became gangs. They are still thriving today as part of an international network that’s dominated by the big criminal organizations known as Triads. That’s why the triangle you described is so interesting.”
“In what way?”
“The term Triad was coined by the British, who saw that the Chinese symbol for secret society was a triangle.”
Zavala’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re right,” he said, “that is interesting.”
“The triangle symbolized the unity of heaven, earth, and man,” Caitlin said. “Pyramid uses it as a trademark for its legitimate enterprises. But it’s still involved with extortion, murder, prostitution, drugs, loan-sharking, and money laundering.”
“The tried and true,” Zavala said.
“It’s also got a worldwide network of gangs in every city. The names all start with Ghost: the Ghost Devils, the Ghost Shadows, the Ghost Dragons. You get the picture. They do the dirty work: intimidation, enforcement, murder. They’re ready to go at a moment’s notice.”
“What about the legal side?”
“The criminal stuff is the bedrock, but it has evolved into a nontraditional organization with foreign affiliates and legitimate businesses: manufacturing, real estate, movies, phamaceuticals. And, as you discovered, commercial fishing. Some of its divisions have gotten into trouble for producing contaminated, dangerous products.”
“Does the Pyramid leadership have a human face?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, it has three. The company is said to be run by a set of triplets.”
“That’s an unusual arrangement.”
“Not when you consider the extent of their empire. Pyramid is like a country unto itself. It has a huge treasury, an army of thugs at its command, and a diplomatic corps that interacts with the Chinese government, which traditionally has supported the Triads. It has gangs in every major country, including the U.S. It’s the biggest criminal organization in China, possibly in the world.”
“How do you fight something like that?” Zavala asked.
“With great difficulty. Asian criminal groups are smart, rich, multilingual, and flexible. Advances in travel and communications have allowed them to operate on a global scale. We can make life tough for their street gangs and nibble around the edges of their financial empire, but they’ve been impervious up to now.”
“What has changed?”
“They are up against the only enemy who could do them harm: the Chinese government. It’s trying to put Pyramid out of business.”
“Wait a second, didn’t you say the government supported the Triads?”
“That’s history. There’s a huge gray area between what is legal and what is criminal in China. That’s where the Triads operate. The government hadn’t clamped down before this because the Triads produce money, keep order, and are patriotic.”
“Why the sudden change of heart?”
“The Chinese military has been in business with the Triads for years. Pyramid is particularly tight with the Army, giving it political muscle to defend its criminal interests, but the government is worried this cozy arrangement has given Pyramid too much power. They’ve put thousands of corrupt officials from the National People’s Congress in jail, but they really began to push after the safety scandals. China lives on its exports. And anything that threatens them threatens the stability of the country and therefore its rulers.
“Tell me about the triplets,” Zavala said.
“Not much to tell. Triads give their people numbers, according to rank rather than names. But they usually have someone to serve as their public face. Pyramid’s front man is an immensely rich guy named Wen Lo. No one has ever seen the other two triplets. Triads are usually decentralized, but Pyramid has been strengthening its leadership, which also has the government worried.” She paused. “Now it’s my turn, Joe. Why would a Chinese Triad want to sabotage the bathysphere?”
“Kurt thinks they were after Dr. Kane because of a secret research project he was involved in. Does that sound plausible?”
“Anything is possible with this gang. What would you like me to do?”
“I was hoping you might poke around and see what you can dig up.”
Caitlin cocked her head. “Not to be coy, but what can you offer me in return?”
“A ride in my ’Vette, a romantic dinner at an old inn in the Virginia countryside.”
“Been there, done that, señor. Tell you what, Joe, if Pyramid is involved in anything, it’s part of something very big. Pyramid doesn’t do things in half measures.”
“Would the government crackdown have anything to do with what we’ve talked about?”
“Possibly. Pyramid has react
ed like a wounded snake since the purge began. They’ve killed cops, judges, and top officials as a warning to the government to keep its hands off, but I don’t see the connection with your Dr. Kane.”
“Neither do I. Can you help?”
“I’ll put you in touch with Charlie Yoo. He’s an agent that the Chinese security agency sent over to work with the FBI. He’s a specialist in gangs. Pyramid made a mistake underestimating you and Kurt. But a few words of advice . . .”
“We always listen to advice from a pro, Cate.”
Caitlin put her hand on her holster, a reflexive gesture, as if she sensed danger.
“That’s good, Joe, because if I know Pyramid, you and Kurt are in their sights. And they won’t miss a second time.”
THOUSANDS OF MILES FROM Virginia, Pyramid Trading was also on the lips of Colonel Ming. The slender, soft-spoken man with the thick head of silver hair stood outside a dilapidated building in the slums of Shanghai. There had apparently been an attempt to burn the building, but the firefighters called in to keep the blaze from spreading to the nearby slums had nipped the fire in the bud.
The smoke still burned the colonel’s eyes, even though he stood several hundred feet from the building. He didn’t want the ash floating in the air to settle on his razor-creased Army uniform. Even if he had wished to get closer, he would have been prevented by the cordon of decontamination trucks and ring of armed police.
He turned to the Ministry of Health official, who had called him.
“I’m not sure why you asked me to come here,” Ming said. “It appears that the city has the situation well in hand. There seems little need for crowd control by the military.”
“This was no ordinary building and this was no ordinary fire,” said the minister, whose name was Fong. “There were medical tests of some sort going on here.”
“This seems an unlikely place for that sort of thing. Are you sure?”
Fong nodded.
“We found a number of people locked in cells,” he said. “They had been left there to burn, but, fortunately, even though they were in poor condition, they were able to talk. They said they had been kidnapped, and that many people had been taken from their cells, never to return. We believe they were moved to labs, and, from the equipment we found, it seems they were the subjects of experiments.”
“What kind of experiments, Fong?”
“We don’t know specifically. But we did find traces of a virus strain that is of some concern to our ministry. It is the same virus that caused an outbreak in a village to the north. The person who caused that epidemic was from Shanghai.”
“Quite the coincidence,” said Ming.
“Even more, the person was employed in a security capacity by Pyramid Trading based here in the city. And, almost unbelievably, Pyramid owns this building.”
“I think I know where you are going with this, Fong. It’s well known that the Army operates a string of brothels in partnership with Pyramid. But there’s no connection to this,” he said with a wave of his hand.
“I understand that, Colonel, but perhaps you might want to reexamine your partnership when I tell you what else we found in the building: the remains of dozens of human beings, discovered in a crematory. We think they had been used in the experiments.”
Ming’s reaction was one of combined fear and revulsion, fear that his name had been linked to Pyramid, revulsion over the experiments.
He stared at the building, trying without success to imagine the horrors within its four walls.
“Thank you, Minister,” he said. “I shall look into it and take the appropriate steps.”
“I hope so,” Fong said. “This is not good for China. Whoever is responsible must be brought to account, but it must be done quietly.”
“I am in complete agreement with the need for discretion,” Colonel Ming said. “And I think I know exactly where to begin.”
Unknown
NUMA 8 - Medusa
CHAPTER 22
DOOLEY GREEN LOOKED UP FROM THE OUTBOARD MOTOR he’d been repairing at the end of the dock and his mouth widened in a gap-toothed grin when he saw the young Asian woman coming his way.
“Afternoon, Doctor,” he said. “Going to take another crack at that pink bird?”
Dr. Lee tapped the zoom lens of the digital camera hanging from a strap around her neck.
“Yes, Dooley. You know how determined I am to get a photo of that beautiful roseate spoonbill.”
“Spoonbills can be cagey all right,” he said. “Kayak’s waiting for you. I’ll fetch your gear.”
Dooley put his screwdriver down and got a kayak paddle and flotation vest from the boat shed. He and Lee walked along the beach to where a light blue fiberglass touring kayak sat on the sand with its bow partway in the water. Lee slipped her arms through the vest and snapped the buckles, then eased her slender body into the cockpit. Dooley handed her the paddle and pushed the craft into the water.
“I’ll probably be back on the mainland by the time you get back, so just put your gear in the shed. Good luck with that spoonbill,” Dooley called out. “And watch out for Granddaddy ’Gator.”
Lee acknowledged the warning with an airy wave of the paddle.
“Thank you, Dooley. I’ll keep an eye out for him.”
The warning was a private joke. When Song Lee first arrived on Bonefish Key from China, Dooley told her about the monster alligator lurking in the mangroves. Seeing from her startled expression that she believed his tall tale, he had quickly explained that no alligator had been seen around Bonefish Key for decades.
Dooley watched Lee paddle the kayak to the mouth of the inlet and thought how fond he had become of the young Chinese scientist. He wasn’t too old to appreciate her flowerlike beauty, but his interest was far from prurient. Lee was around thirty, the same age as a daughter who had disowned him years before. He had quit drinking, after running the family shrimp business aground on the shoals of gin, poker, and a series of wives, but he and his daughter were still estranged.
As Dooley went back to the outboard motor, Lee headed along the shore of the island and emerged from the mangroves into a small bay. She pointed the kayak’s prow toward the stranded cabin cruiser, then left the bay and headed into the funnel-shaped cove Dooley had entered earlier that day on his tour with Gamay. Seeing a ripple on the water, Lee shipped her paddle and was rewarded a moment later when a shiny back scarred by propeller blades broke the surface.
Manatee!
She banged off some photos, until the lumbering mammal submerged to feed on the bottom. Lee took up her paddle again, heading farther into the cove. The distance between the mangroves diminished from a quarter of a mile to a couple hundred feet.
A great blue heron took off with a mighty flap of its long wings. Lee watched the big bird until it was out of sight, then she brought her binoculars to bear on a pair of snowy egrets wading in the shallows. Her heart skipped a beat at the flash of pink behind one of them.
The egrets moved, and she brought the camera up to her eye. Through the viewfinder, she saw a bird that looked like a flamingo with a duck bill. She snapped off several pictures of the roseate spoonbill, then reviewed the photos. They were all perfect. Lee was smiling when she took up her paddle again.
With a few strokes, she sent the kayak toward a weathered gray wooden post that stuck out of the water near the edge of a mangrove. It marked a narrow break in the otherwise impenetrable tangle of roots. The kayak’s hull scraped an oyster bed and came to rest on shore.
Lee stepped into warm, knee-deep water. Although she knew that Dooley’s giant alligator was a fable, she quickly hauled the kayak onto the narrow beach.
She grabbed a rucksack that held water and power bars and walked through a tunnel of trees for a hundred feet or so before she broke into an open area. A white sandy path wound through the cactus and shrub for a few hundred yards to the other side of the island.
A rush of air off the turquoise waters of the Gulf of Mexico coo
led Lee’s face as the path ended at a barrier beach. She strolled along the beach for a short distance and plunked down on the sand with her back against a sea-silvered driftwood log.
A blue-hulled fishing boat was anchored offshore just beyond the line of breakers. Otherwise, she had the beach to herself. She had seen the boat several times in the past week or so, but it had stayed a respectful distance away. She examined it through the zoom lens of her camera but saw no one on deck.
When she had first landed on Bonefish Key months before, Dr. Lee had been advised by Dr. Kane to find a distraction to take her mind off her work. Some scientists avoided burnout by fishing, others by playing chess or reading. A few spent too much time at the Dollar Bar. The daily kayak trips into the mangroves had been her salvation. The break she took each afternoon rejuvenated her, allowing her to work late into the night.
With the project nearly at an end, she would miss the remote beauty of the island when she returned to China. She wondered if her government would reward or even acknowledge her labors, or if she would just return to her country practice.
She gave in to her weariness and fell asleep. When she awoke, she glanced at her watch. She looked off along the beach and noticed that the blue-hulled boat had vanished. She frowned. She had regained her privacy, but it was time to go back to work. She got up, brushed the sand from her shorts, and headed across the island to her kayak.
When Lee broke through the tree canopy, she saw that the kayak was no longer where she had left it on the beach. She set her pack aside, waded out into the water, and visually searched the lagoon.
There was no sign of the kayak.
Lee turned back to the island, saw blue plastic gleaming in the grass, and let out a sigh of relief. The kayak had been pulled up into the tall grass on one side of the beach. She wondered why anyone would do such a thing and stepped into the grass to retrieve the kayak. It was a remote spot, and she felt uncomfortable knowing there was someone else on the island.